


Frank Lero and Gerald Way

by Helena_Hathaway



Category: My Chemical Romance, Panic! at the Disco
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Anal Sex, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Funny, Gay Sex, Hand Jobs, High School, Humor, M/M, One Shot, Porn, Porn With Plot, Sexual Content, Smut, or the one where Gerard is a flirt who doesn't have time for subtlety
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-05
Updated: 2014-12-05
Packaged: 2018-02-28 07:32:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,243
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2723957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Helena_Hathaway/pseuds/Helena_Hathaway
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The story of the only two boys whose names were misspelled in the yearbook.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Frank Lero and Gerald Way

It’s not like he’s gawking intentionally or anything. He’s just got a crush on the boy sitting across the schoolyard. Sometimes his eyes just drift that way. He can’t help it.

Frank evaluates him, and sighs to himself because he has spent the entire school year just imagining what it would be like to actually go up to him and say hi. He should just say hello. That’s all he really needs to do. Just say his name and maybe avoid the part where he’s daydreamed about him.

“Who, the everloving fuck, is Gerald?” A voice shouts from it’s place on the railing outside of the school. Frank’s ears perk up at the sound and he looks at the boy who he may or may not have just been fantasizing naked.

“What are you talking about? What?” A guy who, admittedly, has an overlarge forehead, asks in response.

“Look at this shit,” he replies, and turns the yearbook to show his friend, “I’m fucking Gerald. Gerald! Who the fuck names their kid Gerald?”

“You should talk, Gerard,” his friend with the big forehead, commonly referred to as ‘Brendon’, says.

“Did they spellcheck this thing or what? My name is not Gerald,” Gerard scoffs.

“It’s stupider than that.”

“I really hope they added an accidental ‘N’ to your last name,” Gerard says, pushing himself up from his spot. He starts ascending back up the steps, against the throng of people who are trying to go the other way. It’s not like Gerard’s intimidating but he’s got a look of determination in his eyes, so people move out of the way.

Frank frowns and watches him get swallowed by a swarm of students, all chattering about this or that. He can’t help but grab his own yearbook and sigh, understanding the way Gerard is feeling all too well.

“What the hell kind of insult would Nurie be?” Brendon shouts even though he can’t see Gerard anymore. “Where are you going?”

“I’m going to go yell at people who have no sense using a fucking computer,” Gerard yells back.

“Have fun!” Brendon screams as he flips to the right page in his yearbook. In all honesty, Gerard’s probably just mad because he knows that for the next year, he’s going to exclusively be called Gerald by everyone who gives half a shit about him. Brendon is certainly going to be calling him Gerald.

Gerard doesn’t know who to complain to, but when he gets back into the school he at least doesn’t have to fight for his life anymore. He’d felt like Simba in a herd of wildebeests. All the faces he saw were about as meaningless as those anyway. You could say worn out faces...

Gerard looks at the book in his hand. It’s hardcover because his school is pretentious enough to think that the students would rather have a hardcover yearbook than edible lunches. In the long run maybe that’s true, but there’s only so many days where you can put up with mushrooms growing mold. That’s right; mold growing its own mold.

He flips through to find the page he’s looking for. Past sports teams, musical casts, academic clubs, and all the dorky clubs that people make fun of. Gerard refused to show up the day when they took the picture for Dungeons and Dragons. It was a bad idea. Some noob had let Benedict Cumberbirch, his beloved Treant, fall into a river.

Gerard flips until he finds the page where there’s a blurry photograph of the yearbook staff. It mostly consists of the pretentious looking girls who wear the wrong shade of lipstick and don’t know how to correctly apply mascara. There’s also a few guys in the picture who Gerard is positive only joined because it was the alternative to detention. 

He knows where to find one of them though, so he heads in the direction of the quad. Gerard’s never understood this school. They make a point to educate every student with an array of different anti-drug classes, but they look the other way when everyone in the world knows that the burnouts get high in the middle of the school. Gerard says burnouts, most people say twats, fuckups, white rasta’s, shitheads, or the kids who’s daddies left them too early in life, but Gerard chooses to take the moral high ground. That is, if you consider ‘burnout’ to be more polite than ‘shithead.’

Whatever you choose to call them, Gerard makes his way to their little hangout in the middle of the school which is technically off limits to students, but that rule has never been enforced. Instead, it’s like open season for anyone who wants to put anything illegal into their system between the hours of eight in the morning and five at night.

The school isn’t exactly large, but it’s all spread out so it takes Gerard far too long to even get to his destination. Lucky for him though, the douchebag named Chad that Gerard is heading for, is standing in the hallway, high off his tits but upright nonetheless. 

Gerard thinks to himself that Chad is a truly atrocious name for a person. It’s such a stoner name. If you didn’t want your kid to become an aficionado on various strains of marijuana, than you should not have given him the name ‘Chad.’ It’s the same problem with the name ‘Hannibal.’ You didn’t want your kid to be a cannibal, well than maybe you shouldn’t’ve given him a name that rhymes with it. That being said though does make one wonder whether Gerard’s on the road to becoming a night guard. 

Frank uses ‘forgetting his phone in his locker’ as his excuse to follow Gerard. Mostly because he’s finally found a topic of conversation that he might be able to use to initiate an actual verbal connection with Gerard.

He hears Gerard start to lecture someone in the hall adjacent to him and he watches as a few stragglers that are left in the school still, make their way past him. Some turn in confusion to listen to the guy telling off someone about misspelling his name, but most of them don’t give half a shit about it.

Frank overhears Gerard saying, “It’s _Gerard_ you monkey with a keyboard! Would it help if I wrote it in Wing Dings so your shit hat of a brain can figure out how to spell?”

“Too late now, dude,” Chad says. Frank rolls his eyes from the adjacent hall, because that’s such an awful name.

“No, I know it is, but I just figured someone needs to call you a buffoon today, because no number of times will ever be enough. Your skull is so fucking thick I don’t even know if you can process the idiocy flooding off of you.”

“Listen dude, I didn’t understand half of what you just said-”

“Jesus fucking Christ. Yearbook club my ass. Try stoner of the month club, shitdick,” Gerard says, and then the sound of footsteps tells Frank that he’s walking back.

Frank sees Gerard the instant he turns down the hallway and Frank just takes a deep breath knowing that it’s now or never. For a minute, Frank just panics and looks around for somewhere to hide. Then he realizes that Gerard has never looked twice at him and he’s certainly not going to do it now.

“You know these walls echo really well,” Frank says, and then he mentally kicks himself repeatedly, because what a stupid thing to say that was. He’s never talked to this guy and now he’s breaking the ice by discussing the resonation of the fucking hallway.

“Is that your way of saying you were eavesdropping?” Gerard says, lifting an eyebrow as he halts and looks at Frank. Frank all of a sudden feels like he’s being x-rayed, because this is the first time in his entire life that Gerard has ever looked at him and actually taken any note of his existence. He should’ve kept his mouth shut. He shouldn’t have said anything. Too late now.

“Gerald, I presume?” the boy asks, coming up to Gerard.

“Oh now hon, your face is too pretty for me to put a dent in it, but you say that one more time and I won’t think twice.”

“Can you even dent a person’s face?”

“If you want, we can find out together,” Gerard says.

Frank grins, and tucks a strand of hair behind his ear. He cannot believe he’s actually doing this. He shouldn’t have done this. The whole definition of having an unrequited crush was that he never made any steps to change the status of the crush to become a blisteringly painful longing in his abdomen. Of course he had to go and fuck that up though. Frank did not think this through at all.

Frank can’t figure out what to say next. He’s literally forgotten every single word he’s ever known. Nothing is coming to him until he just spits his words out like vomit.

“You want to see something?” Frank asks.

“If that’s a prelude into you pulling off your trench coat and flashing me than sure, why not?” Gerard says.

Gerard looks down at the kid, not because he considers himself better than him, but rather because the dude is probably a member of a short people support group. 

“I’m not wearing a trench coat,” the kid replies. Gerard is trying to figure out how old he is, because he has a face that could either be twelve or eighteen. Gerard doesn’t have a clue, but it’s a nice face in any case.

“So I see. That’s a shame, I was looking forward to it,” Gerard says assessing the kid far too conspicuously. “Show me whatever it is you wanted to show me. You’ve got me on pins and needles, boy I’ve never met before.”

The guy grabs at the yearbook in Gerard’s hands and then flips through the pages hurriedly, until he stops on one page. It’s still in the middle of the juniors, so Gerard presumes this kid must be the same age as him.

“Right here,” the kid says and points to a picture, “that’s me.”

“Fantastic,” Gerard says, not understanding something, “why am I looking at it... Frank?”

The kid, who just showed his name to be Frank makes a groaning sound and says, “There’s an L in the middle of the I’s, dumbass. My name ain’t Lero. What idiot let that slide?”

“To be fair, what the hell kind of name is Iero?” Gerard asks, “My name sounds like a grandpa’s but at least I have a sane number of vowels.”

“You’re a little ball of sunshine, aren’t you?”

Gerard snickers, “Hells yeah. Nice to meet you Mr. Lero.”

“And to you too, Gerald.”

“I feel we’ve formed a bond,” Gerard says.

“The band of guys whose names were misspelled?”

“The band of extremely attractive guys whose names were misspelled,” Gerard corrects, looking over Frank like he’s a piece of meat. “So I know your name, but explain to me why I don’t know you. I think I’d have noticed a face as nice as yours.”

“Uh, what?” Frank says.

Gerard snickers, “oh come on, a pretty boy like you isn’t dumb enough to ignore your own looks.”

“So you’re not one for subtlety I presume.”

“Subtlety is for people who don’t have things to do,” Gerard says.

“So you have things to do then?”

“Nope.”

“But wait,” Frank says, getting confused.

Gerard just snickers again and then puts his arm around Frank, which is a little strange considering Frank has known the guy for like two minutes. Gerard just starts steering him one way, to the direction of the exit.

“What are you doing?”

“Buying you coffee.”

“Why?”

“Because I want to.”

Frank swallows, trying to think of something to say, but it’s hard. Gerard smells kind of extremely fantastic. Like coconut and acrylic paint.

“How do you know I don’t have places to be?” Frank asks.

“Because you don’t.”

“But how do you know?”

Gerard shakes his head, but doesn’t stop pulling Frank in the direction he wants them to go. For Frank, Gerard is acting all too familiar with him. He’s watched Gerard from afar for long enough to know that that’s mostly just who he is. He never thought that Gerard would be talking with _him_ like this though.

“I just do.”

“Well how do you know I like coffee?” Frank asks.

“You’re a junior in high school just coming down from the stress of finals last week. Of course you like coffee.”

“Fair enough,” Frank nods. “Your tactic on flirting is very hands on, I must say.”

“I don’t flirt. Flirting is too indirect. I buy skywriters. Or I would if I wasn’t broke.”

“Then you can’t afford coffee,” Frank says, noticing the fallacy in Gerard’s logic even though he doesn’t intend to say it out loud. He doesn’t know why on earth he’s trying to stop this from happening, whatever the hell ‘this’ is, but his mouth is adamant to do so. Nothing that is coming out of his mouth was directed to do so by his brain. It’s like his words have a mind of their own right now.

“You are such a party pooper,” Gerard says to him, and then they’re standing outside of the school. For the most part it’s deserted when you consider that all of the buses have gone, and the rest of the people still there are all either inside or standing far on the other end of the sidewalk waiting for their rides. Gerard’s friend, Brendon, who Frank knows very little about, is no longer there, so he assumes the guy has left. Basically it’s pretty quiet because no one wants to be stuck at school today. There’s only one day of school left in the year, everyone wants to get away from this place as fast as they can.

“So you’re just going to drag me to what, like a Starbucks?” Frank asks.

“Well listen doll, if you wanted to get away from me you would’ve done so five minutes ago. You’re welcome to leave me all by my lonesome right now if it strikes your fancy, but I reckon you’re not gonna do that, now are you?”

“You’re very cocky,” Frank says. He’s pulled across the parking lot, because that’s where Gerard is taking him. Frank doesn’t know shit about cars so he can’t rightfully say what kind of car Gerard drives, but he’d be able to pick it out of a lineup.

“I’m confident,” Gerard says, “there’s a difference.”

“The two aren’t mutually exclusive.”

“Fine then,” Gerard says, stopping in front of his car, and finally taking his arm back from around Frank’s shoulder. Frank doesn’t even know what to say about this situation at all. It’s just weird. Nothing Gerard has said has made any sense based off the knowledge Frank has picked up on logical human interaction.

“What?”

“I’ll embrace cocky. I’ll embrace the cockiness,” he says, “but if I’m cocky, that makes you far too self-contained.”

“I’m what?”

“Shy. Self-reserved. Quiet. Restrained. Reticent,” Gerard says, “I swallowed a thesaurus as a child. Your shyness, it’s endearing, but it doesn’t make for great conversation.”

“Sorry?”

“For what?” Gerard asks.

“For being shy,” Frank replies.

“Never apologize for who you are, just punch whoever has a problem with it in the face,” Gerard says.

“You really are a ray of sunshine,” Frank says.

“Thank you. I will tell you though, in order for me to buy you coffee, you have to get in the car,” Gerard says.

“How do I know you’re not going to drive us off a cliff?”

“Well Thelma, we still have a year of high school left. You might prefer it.”

“Why am I Thelma?” Frank asks.

“Because I don’t remember the other ones name,” Gerard says, pulling his car door open and then looking at Frank expectantly. Frank is still standing in front of the car, hasn’t made a move to even get in, and he doesn’t know why he’s not jumping for joy at the opportunity. He’s literally built up the courage to talk to this guy for an entire year and now he can’t do anything about it. He can’t even open the fucking door. 

“You know I’m not pressuring you or anything,” Gerard says, “it’s just that you’re awful cute and I’d hate to not get to know you.”

Frank mumbles something unintelligible. Whatever game Gerard is playing, Frank doesn’t even have the rules to. He considers for a moment, then walks over to the side of the car and just swallows his nerves. He can’t just fawn after this boy for the rest of his life. Especially considering the fact that if he turns away now, he won’t see Gerard again for another three months. He’s going to take the chance here.

“So Gerald was it?” Frank says, grinning when Gerard gives him a look. “Take me away.”

“Whatever you say, Mr. Lero,” Gerard says, grinning right back at him with a glimmer in his eye. He opens the door and takes a seat in the car, then watches as Frank nervously sits down beside him. In truth, Gerard knows it’s probably weird that he’s known this kid for ten minutes and he’s buying him coffee but he needs to learn more about someone as attractive as him. He’s a little vapid sure, but the point in getting to know him is to feel less critical of him based on what he looks like, and more on who he actually is. Also, it’s harder to get into a dudes pants when you don’t know anything about him. Favorite pizza topping at the very least.

“You have to buckle,” Gerard says looking at Frank like he’s a small child. 

“I was going to.”

“You didn’t though.”

“I didn’t get to it yet,” Frank says, grabbing the seat belt and pulling it over himself. “There. Better?”

“Yes,” Gerard says, and he starts the engine. Frank, at this point, is just going to go with it. He’s curious to see what’s about to happen.

“Do I scare you, doll?”

“Don’t call me doll,” Frank says.

“Alright then, what do you prefer? Honey? Babe, love, sugar, darling, baby cakes?”

“You’re making me gag,” Frank responds, “just call me Frank.”

“Nah, too simple.”

“Fine then. Lero.”

“Alright Mr. Lero. You may call me Gerald,” Gerard says.

“Did I just get your permission to call you that?” Frank asks, laughing at how stupid that name sounds in relation to Gerard.

“You did indeed,” Gerard says, “We’re a team, you and I. We’ve both been wronged by the class rejects.”

“Oh, what a travesty,” Frank laughs.

“Mind you, I don’t want to be remembered as Gerald. If anything, I’d have preferred they botched my name completely and gave me something cool,” Gerard says.

“Like what?”

“I don’t know,” Gerard says, “something cool though.”

“Alright then.”

“You didn’t answer my question,” Gerard says, “do I scare you?”

“Why would you scare me?”

“Well this may come as sort of a surprise to you, but most people don’t invite strangers to coffee just because that stranger happens to look nice in skinny jeans,” Gerard says.

“You said nothing about my jeans earlier,” Frank says.

“That’s because most people consider it invasive to tell them that they have a nice ass,” Gerard says.

“Why were you looking at my ass?” Frank asks. He’s got his eyes schooled on Gerard, who keeps glancing over at him every few seconds, until he looks back at the road.

“I was curious,” Gerard says.

“Curious?”

“That’s what I said.”

“Who even are you?” Frank says, “Do you have, like, any sense of modesty?”

“Not particularly, no. Why?”

“No reason,” Frank replies, and then Gerard parks the car. They don’t live in the biggest town in the world, but Frank could’ve sworn they just left the school. That couldn’t have been more than a minute or so, which is weird. He looks up, however, and they _are_ parked in front of a coffee shop. 

“So, before I buy you coffee, I just have a question. You’re letting me whisk you away from school with nothing more than the offer of coffee, so are you just in it for the free stuff, or are you intrigued by me.”

“Yes,” Frank says, opening his door and stepping out. 

“I like you already,” Gerard says, when he pulls himself to his feet as well. Frank just looks at him, and pinches his wrist behind his back for good measure. This is real, he actually is flirting with Gerard Way. Well, Gerald Way according to the yearbook.

“C’mon then,” Gerard says, gesturing for Frank to walk ahead of him.

“I have absolutely no idea why I agreed to any of this,” Frank says, shaking his head as he walks toward the coffee place.

“Wait, hold on,” Gerard says, before Frank grabs the door to go in. Gerard steps in front of him and grabs the handle for Frank, and then he curtsies loosely as he holds the door for Frank.

“You have got to be kidding,” Frank says, looking at him.

“I’m a gentleman,” Gerard says, “and it’s best, if you intend to make a grand entrance, that you let the prettier person go in first. I think we can both figure out which one of us is prettier.”

“You are something else,” Frank says, but he steps forward anyway, turning back to look at Gerard as he enters the small building. Gerard puts his hand on the small of Frank’s back, which feels far too intimate considering it’s just a fucking hand. Frank shivers slightly under the touch, making Gerard hide a smile.

“What may I get for you, Mr. Lero?” Gerard asks.

“Just coffee. Two sugars.”

Gerard nods, and sends Frank to go sit down. Frank tries to refuse, but Gerard tells him that it’s more courteous to let Frank sit down, and Gerard is very good at getting his way just with the sound of his voice.

When Gerard does eventually walk over to sit down across from Frank at a table by the window, he’s looking at Frank with an analytical expression. It’s like Frank is an equation Gerard is trying to solve.

“Why am I here then?” Frank asks.

“Because you agreed to come with me when I asked you out for coffee,” Gerard says.

“So what is this then?”

“Call it what you will,” Gerard says, “but I’m going to call it a date.”

Frank takes a sip of the coffee that Gerard gave to him and he tries to pretend that the word ‘date’ doesn’t make him nervous.

“Do you make a habit of buying strangers for coffees?”

Gerard grins at him, “Did you mean, coffee for strangers?”

“Wait, what did I say?”

“Nothing,” Gerard says, laughing, “That’s what you said, sorry.”

Frank blushes. He doesn’t know what he said, but surely he fumbled his words. Gerard’s being nice about it, which only makes him feel even more embarrassed.

“So, do you?”

“Buy coffee for strangers often? You’d be the first, actually,” Gerard says.

“Really? So that’s just your personality?”

“Was that meant to be an insult?” Gerard asks, looking like he really is going to start laughing at Frank.

“No, I just meant, I mean, you’re really confident. Is that just who you are?”

Gerard shrugs, “I used to not be this confident, but then I got bored of it. It just got to be so tedious to always be afraid of everyone so I decided to not be.”

“That’s it?” Frank asks, “You just decided, and stopped.”

“Well there were a few more steps, but that’s not important. What’s important is that I don’t give a shit about what people think of me anymore.”

“I kind of admire that,” Frank says.

“You admire me?”

Frank’s eyes widen, “I didn’t say that! I didn’t not say it, or, I mean, I-”

“Relax,” Gerard says, “You’re so on edge. You don’t have to be. It’s just a coffee, Frank. I didn’t buy your soul.”

“Sorry,” Frank says.

“You’re adorable.”

“Uh, thanks,” Frank says.

“You need to tell me about yourself, Frank,” Gerard says.

“I do?”

“Yes,” Gerard nods. “Do I have any classes with you? I feel like I should’ve seen you before.”

“You don’t,” Frank answers too quickly, “uh, I mean, I don’t think so. I was new this year, so it’s not like I’ve been around for a really long time.”

“That’s not an excuse for why I’ve never seen you,” Gerard says, “I really feel like I would remember a face like that.”

“God, if you keep saying things like that, I’m going to perpetually be the color of a tomato.”

“Not a tomato, no,” Gerard says, “More like a flamingo.”

“Well thanks. That makes me feel all better,” Frank rolls his eyes.

“It’s sweet. You seem to be sweet. I like that. So many people nowadays are all about being right, or proving things to other people. Everyone’s so competitive or not interested in anything. No one’s sweet anymore. It’s refreshing.”

“Maybe you’re just looking in the wrong place.”

“Where should I be looking?”

“Well, Gerard, we’re in high school. No one you find in a high school is genuine anymore, and if they are, then they have to hide it because when you smile at high school that makes you easier prey. Smiling is like a ‘kick me’ sign, and being nice is an excuse for people to walk over you,” Frank says, “if you were to meet me under the school roof, I don’t know that I’d be able to be the same person I am now.”

“What’s the point in being two different people, if you’re the same person? One body, keep it to one personality. I mean, obviously those are loose parameters, but I always find it weird to see people being different people depending on who they’re with. Like, you’re a different person with your parents then you are with your friends. You talk differently to a teacher than to a waiter.”

“You see things more simply than I do,” Frank says, “And I don’t mean that in a bad way. I don’t mean that my world is in color while yours is black and white, I just mean to say that, it’s not easy to be so... I don’t know the way to say it.”

“That’s alright,” Gerard says, “I understand what you mean.”

Frank looks down and realizes that he’d all but forgotten the coffee in front of him. He grabs it and looks at the murky color for a second before taking a sip. Gerard is staring at him. He’s not staring at him like you look at someone in passing or anything, he’s looking at Frank like Frank has a map to buried treasure on his face.

“What?” Frank asks, trying to scratch at his face in case there’s something on it.

“Nothing,” Gerard says, “I don’t want to keep repeating that you’re pretty, but it’s the truth, and it _needs_ repeating.”

“I think you’re nice to look at too,” Frank mutters before hiding himself with the coffee cup. When he looks back up, Gerard is biting his lip, but his eyes are still trained on Gerard.

“Tell me something no one knows about you,” Gerard says.

“What?”

“Tell me something no one knows about you,” Gerard repeats.

“What makes you think I’d tell you?”

“I have a David Bowie record that I shoplifted from a used book store when I was about eight, and it’s so scratched to hell that it barely even plays music anymore, but I still have it,” Gerard says. “I’ve never told anyone that.”

Frank frowns and looks down at the table, trying to think of something. He doesn’t know what the purpose of this is, but he’ll play if it’s with Gerard.

“My mom makes this, uh, I don’t know what to call it, like vegetable stew, and I tell her I like it, but it’s actually the most disgusting thing I’ve ever had the displeasure of tasting.”

Gerard is beaming at Frank when he looks back up. Frank feels like every single one of Gerard’s expressions is just an overly exaggerated look, but there’s something inherently _Gerard_ about it.

“There,” Gerard says, “now I know something no one else knows about you.”

“And I know something about you,” Frank replies, and smiles shyly back at Gerard. He doesn’t understand a moment of the time he’s spent with Gerard so far, and that’s kind of amazing. He’s never in his life felt so baffled or intrigued by a human before.

Getting coffee with Gerard stays with Frank for the rest of the afternoon, and into the night. He’s not sure what it is about the weird interaction, but every moment feels like one of the strongest memories in his head. Just the imprints of it feel like they’ll last forever. Like a movie. A movie playing on his eyelids as he drifts off to sleep.

Though into dreams he can’t control the directions his brain takes him. His inner consciousness does not see Gerard the same way Frank had seen him today. Frank never in his life realized how impure his thoughts could be.

Frank hates last days. He hates last days of school. He hates the last day of summer. He hates the last day of the month. He hates the last day of Hanukah, and Frank does not celebrate Hanukah. He just hates last days. There’s just something so utterly final about them. 

Today is no different. It’s his last day of school, something he’s supposed to be happy about, but he’s not. He’s just got a feeling of dread.

Until he thinks about the way Gerard had looked at him yesterday. That had been something. No one’s ever looked at him like that. It was unbelievable that anyone could look at anyone else like that. Especially when Frank considers the fact that he had only known Gerard for an hour at the time. It didn’t make any sense. Gerard doesn’t make sense though.

Frank drags himself out of his bed, and, as most mornings do, the hour ahead of him seems to fly away from him like a leaf in the wind. He doesn’t recall brushing his teeth, showering, shooing away the thought of toast offered by his mother, and all the other menial things that land him back in front of his school.

“One year left,” Frank says to the building as he walks up the steps. The same steps that he’d been watching Gerard from yesterday.

Frank walks the cruddy high school hallway that smells so unreservedly like a high school. It smells like sweaty boys, and it smells like girls who don’t know how much perfume is considered acceptable. It smells like burned food, and shoes that are in dire need of being decontaminated. It smells like regret, loathing, fear, confusion, revulsion, and of course, hormones. It smells like teenagers who just don’t give a shit any more, and it smells like teachers who don’t give a shit that the teenagers don’t give a shit. Frank hates the way it smells to his core.

He runs a hand through his hair, still damp, but it’s making its way towards dry. He walks down the hallway, the same hallway where he said his first words to Gerard yesterday. The same hallway that Gerard put his arm around Frank in.

The same hallway where someone once axe bombed the locker across from his. The same hallway where Frank was once hit in the head with someone’s locker that belonged to someone who didn’t even notice his existence. The same hallway where the dreams and aspirations of several thousand students were left to die without anyone to mourn over them. Frank’s opinion of this hallway, or this school in general, is not very high. The only good thing he has to say about this school is that he has never been beaten up in it. No one cares enough about him to invest the time it would take to beat him up in here.

Frank doesn’t even think about Gerard for two whole periods. Mostly he’s just trying to get through the rest of the day without vomiting. It’s not that Frank thinks he’s better than anyone around him, he knows they’re all basically the same boring sacks of blood and bones, but he hates everyone anyway. Everyone just gets on his nerves, and he’s had enough of them.

He’s not a huge fan of summer, nor is he a fan of school, but he’s not going to miss seeing these people every day. Or at least, he’s going to enjoy the three month break he’ll get from them. 

Frank’s not going to miss Sam the guy who talks like he’s a surfer dude from the early nineties. He’s not going to miss Juliet, the girl who thinks she’s better than everyone else because she only listens to classic rock bands. He’s not going to miss Jordan, the Backstreet Boys reject. He won’t be missing Teddy and the way he smells like he sterilizes his clothes. He’s not going to miss Destiny who draws furry porn on her notebooks. He definitely isn’t going to miss Trenton who’s the third cousin twice removed of the drummer from that one band that had the one-hit wonder twelve years ago, and won’t let you forget it.

Frank feels like a zombie as he makes his way to his third period class with his lifeless teacher, who probably died twenty years ago, but never got the memo that she was supposed to bite the bullet.

That is, Frank had every intention to walk their mindlessly until he’s ambushed by someone putting an arm around his waist out of nowhere. Frank almost jumps high enough to dislodge one of the already mildewed ceiling tiles. The ceiling tiles are actually famous for randomly falling from the ceiling in the band room. Something about the vibrations from the tuba disrupting their careful balance.

Frank looks around, ready to punch someone in the face when he sees the impish face of Gerard looking back at him.

“You look nice today.”

“Uh, thanks?” Frank says.

“You’re welcome,” Gerard says, “so how do you feel about the last day of school?”

Frank scoffs quietly, “I’m perfectly neutral about it.”

“So Frank,” Gerard says, apparently that’s all he needs to do to change the subject.

“Yes?”

“My brother and I are having a party to celebrate the end of the year.”

“Okay?”

“Take a hint asshole,” Gerard says, “I’m inviting you.”

“Traditionally, people don’t offend each other when they want the other person to show up at their shindig.”

“That’s a stupid word,” Gerard says, “don’t say that word, Mr. Lero.”

“Oh, we’re still doing that?” Frank asks. Gerard nods and he takes his arm back from around Frank, so that he can look at Frank from a better angle.

“Why would I stop?” Gerard says, “So anyway, are you coming?”

“Why do you want me to go?”

“Because I want to kiss you,” Gerard says blatantly.

“What?” Frank asks and turns to look at him, but Gerard is already walking away.

“You heard me,” Gerard says. Frank tries to catch up to him, but there’s a swarm of people all heading one way, and Frank is short. He will get stuck in the current of students, and he will not be able to fight his way out of it.

“No, I didn’t!” Frank tries, yelling at him over the buzzing of other people talking about their own lives and plans for the summer.

“Then you’ll just have to show up so you can ask me to repeat it!” Gerard says.

Frank groans, and he just shakes his head. For one thing, Gerard didn’t even tell Frank his address so it’s not like Frank can go. He can’t just ring every doorbell in town until he finds Gerard’s house. Another problem is that he also doesn’t know anyone who has a car to take him apart from his mother, and that would be demeaning. Frank just decides that not going and pretending he’d never known Gerard for three months until the next time they see each other will be sufficient.

Somberly, he makes his way to his next class, wondering why the fuck he even has to go to class. They’re not doing anything. It’s not like he _needs_ to show up or anything. He’s just going to sit in the back and listen to everyone else gossip about all the things they’ve compiled over the last nine months. 

He hates last days of school more than any other kinds of last days. They’re always so full of people smiling about the summer to come, leaving him to dread all the days where he’ll spend twelve hours playing video games. It’s not that he overly likes school, but it’s something to do at least.

Frank just clutches his notebook to his chest and fights his way through the swarm of people so that he can have his last ever class with one of his many unmemorable teachers.

He takes a seat in his usual spot, the desk where a bunch of kids who thought they were deep usually sit. They think they’re deep because they scratch really cliché things into the wood. Most of the vandalism is contained to poems by Sylvia Plath. Frank almost longs for one of the many desks that says things like ‘suck my dick’ because at least it’s better than a bunch of whiney teenagers trying to sound wise.

Frank stares at his notebook with a bored expression, tracing over all the incorrect math equations he tried to erase on the back of it. He flips through some of it, not at all sad about the fact that he’ll never have to look at this notebook again after today. He’ll never use any of this useless information that he’d scribbled into these pages while trying to beat the clock on when his teacher would switch slides.

Frank is almost surprised when a small scrap of paper slips out from one of the pages. He looks at it and turns the paper over curiously to evaluate it. On the paper, in what Frank assumes is Gerard’s handwriting, he’s written his address as well as quick information for when to show up. In particular, Frank’s favorite part of the small note is the message on the bottom that says ‘juice boxes will be provided.’ Of course. Of course juice boxes will be provided. Because what is life without juice in a box?

The knowledge that Frank’s been invited by Gerard is what gets him through the rest of the day. It’s what gets him through lunch period, which he does not share with Gerard unfortunately, and it’s what gets him past all the plastic smiles of people asking him to sign their yearbooks because they don’t want him to feel left out. He knows no one actually wants him to sign their yearbook, that’s why he signs every single one of them as Kelly Ripa. 

And then, all of a sudden, it’s the countdown to watch the clock turn from 2:59 to 3:00. Seniors are watching the seconds go by, knowing that in just a minute, they’ll be out of high school. Frank’s watching the clock, and trying to drown out the sounds of excited whispering with his own thoughts. Why are those thoughts so full of Gerard?

From there, Frank winds up at home without thinking about it. Frank just has to make it through a few hours of his mother trying to tell him that it’s okay to be happy about the last day of school. He just shrugs and doesn’t respond. He’s supposed to be jumping for joy, when mostly he’s just trying not to fall into a coma from his boredom.

He’s supposed to live a little though. Go out and party with his friends. Problem is that he doesn’t have any friends.

He’s seriously considering blowing off Gerard’s party until he pictures the look on Gerard’s face if he were to skip it. He can just imagine how sad and droopy Gerard would get if Frank didn’t show up. He’d looked so excited when he invited Frank. Frank would be a horribly rude person if he didn’t at least make an appearance. He doesn’t have to stay for long, just long enough.

“Ma, I’m going out,” Frank says, walking down the stairs a little past six with an outfit different from the one he’d been wearing before. He looks like he’s trying now. He’s not wearing the old clothes he found in his closet, it looks like Frank is making an attempt to be presentable. That’s a first.

“Where?” his mother asks.

“A party,” Frank shrugs, “to celebrate the end of the school year.”

“What kind of a party?”

“Oh, you know, the usual. Strippers, alcohol, maybe a little bit of cocaine,” Frank says blandly.

“Yeah, alright,” his mom replies, because she knows Frank’s sarcasm like the back of her hand. It helps that most of the things he says are meant to be sardonic.

“I’ll probably be a little late coming home. Probably going to get a few girls pregnant.”

That one is even easier to disregard as sarcasm, because Frank’s not getting anyone pregnant with the way that he swings.

“Just be home before dawn,” his mother says. She seems to think Frank’s going to party all night long, which is weird because Frank doesn’t party in the first place. At least she’s not disallowing him to go or anything. She’s not kidding about that dawn thing though, he’s sure of that much. 

“Will do,” Frank says. 

Frank is not a person who owns a car, and he is not a person who knows someone who owns a car, but he is someone who lives near a public bus stop. That’s his only consolation for having no friends, because at least he can have his space invaded by smelly guys with their flies undone.

Gerard doesn’t live far away from a bus stop, but it’s far enough that Frank resents him a little bit for it. He would greatly like to just teleport there. Well, if he had the ability to teleport, Gerard’s house is the last place he’d go. He’d be in Italy eating as much pizza as he can get his hands on. 

He knows when he sees Gerard’s house, not because it’s the address on the note in his hands, but because it looks like someone’s having a party. There’s cars parked along the street, and the lights are on. It doesn’t look like one of those parties from teen movies where there’s kids passed out on the lawn and the smell of vodka filling the air, but it does look like someone is hosting some sort of get-together.

Frank feels uncomfortable, especially now when he walks up the front driveway, feeling completely out of place. He doesn’t belong at parties. He’s not cool. He doesn’t have friends in there, really he should’ve just stayed home. It’s too late to turn back now though, he’s made it this far. Frank just takes a deep breath, and walks over to the front door, which is slightly ajar, so he pushes it open.

When Frank steps into the house, no one gives him a second glance. He looks around to see that there’s about fifteen people in the living room, maybe twenty. It’s not so packed that there’s no breathing space, but there’s more people than one would typically find. 

Most people are just sitting around and talking, it’s rather tame actually. Frank wasn’t expecting a wild Animal House type party, but it’s so mellow. Maybe Gerard’s friends are all just really boring. Someone’s playing music, and it’s kind of loud. It’s some song heavily layered in auto tune with no defining beat, so Frank ignores it.

The living room he enters into is unexciting and generic to be completely honest. It’s a large room, mostly open space, with a stairwell leading upstairs to the left. On the right is a formal dining room that looks like it’s never been used in its entire sorry existence. There’s a doorway next to the dining room that leads to what Frank believes to be the kitchen. In front of him, across the room there’s also a hallway branching off to some other part of the house, but he pays no mind to it. 

Frank just wants to say hi to Gerard and then leave. He’s also interested in that kissing thing Gerard brought up.

“Mr. Lero,” Gerard says, coming up to him from nowhere. Frank honestly has no idea where he came from, he just all of a sudden burst into existence beside him. 

“Gerald,” Frank says in greeting.

“I’m glad you came.”

“Well if I wasn’t sold already than it was the inclusion of juice boxes that forced me to attend,” Frank says.

“I knew it!” Gerard says triumphantly, and then he turns to look at someone across the room and screams, “Mikey, I told you people loved juice boxes.”

“Fuck off!” is the answer he gets in response.

“Can I get you a juice box, Mr. Lero?” 

“You can indeed,” Frank grins. 

“What flavor would you like?” Gerard asks, leading Frank in the direction of the kitchen.

“Uh, grape?” Frank says, because he can’t think of any other flavor a juice box would come in.

“Grape it is then,” Gerard says, guiding Frank into a small kitchen that doesn’t seem to have any of the things a kitchen usually has. It’s got, like an oven and all that, but there’s no cookware. Maybe they just hide all that in the cupboards or something. This house gives off the impression that it was cleaned recently, but Frank can tell just by Gerard’s personality, that he is _not_ the one who cleaned it.

“Oh fuck!” Gerard’s voice hits Frank’s ears and he frowns at the guy, who’s looking at the refrigerator with an upset face.

“Gerard?”

“Someone drank all the grape ones!” Gerard says and looks at Frank like it’s the end of the world.

“It’s okay, Gerard,” Frank says, smiling at the look on his face.

“No it is not okay, I promised you grape juice boxes, and damn it, I’ve failed you, Frank,” Gerard replies.

“I don’t know what to tell you then,” Frank says, playing along, “I will never forgive you.”

“I know, and I wouldn’t expect you to,” Gerard replies. Frank goes to stand against the counter next to Gerard, mostly to avoid the throng of people who are all talking way too loudly behind him. It’s louder now that he’s deeper into the house. 

“You will never make it up to me, Gerald. I really wanted that grape juice box. More than anything in the world,” Frank states.

“I’m sorry, I know how hard this must be on you, but never is a big word.”

“No it’s not,” Frank says, “I’ll never forgive you. Never.”

“Never?” Gerard asks, looking unbelievably gorgeous to Frank right now. He’s trying to look all sad and sweet, and it’s working to make Frank almost feel bad about teasing him. The guy is insanely attractive when he’s giving Frank puppy dog eyes.

“Never,” Frank confirms.

“What about if I do this?” Gerard asks, and then he leans in closer to Frank and it’s happening with no more prelude than that. All of a sudden, Gerard is just kissing him. He’s pressing Frank against the kitchen counter, with a hand on the side of his neck and he’s kissing him. Frank can’t even concentrate long enough to be able to figure out how it’s happening, because that doesn’t matter, the only thing that does matter is that it _is_ happening.

Gerard’s lips could use some chap stick, but Frank would still rate them highly on a scale because of the person to which the lips belong to. Frank’s instinct is to put his hands everywhere and nowhere all at once, so they just sort of flail around for a second. He finally settles on putting his hands on either of Gerard’s shoulders, and he wishes desperately that he could just not be so awkward about this.

He’s aware of his nose against Gerard’s nose, and it’s weird, but he doesn’t care enough about his nose to stop it, he’s just really focused on the part of him that’s connected with Gerard right now. The only thing he can think to do about his nose is tilt his head a little bit which deepens the kiss, and gives Gerard some silent sign to step closer to Frank, because that’s what he does. He’s so close that they could hold up a sheet of paper between their chests, but they’re not quite touching. It’s way too close for any normal situation, but this is not a normal situation.

“Can you forgive me if I do that?” Gerard asks, when he pulls away from Frank.

“Do what?” Frank asks, a little muddled.

“Do you need me to remind you?”

“Yes,” Frank says firmly.

“Okay,” Gerard answers, and he kisses Frank again, not nearly as hesitantly. Fucking hell, it’s like he’s trying to swallow Frank’s tongue. Frank is okay with it, in all honesty.

At first it’s nothing, it’s just Gerard running his tongue along Frank’s bottom lip, and then somewhere out of the blue, it’s like he’s got a whole different agenda. There is no inkling in Frank’s brain to complain about it though. Not even the smallest piece of him is upset by it. He’s kissing back just as forcefully. Well maybe not exactly, but he is definitely going for it.

Frank’s hands seem to have moved themselves when he wasn’t thinking about it. He puts a hand on Gerard’s side and lets the other rest on the counter behind him. For a little while, all the sounds around Frank seem to stop. It’s exactly like a movie scene to him, where everything that isn’t Gerard’s mouth just completely stops existing. It’s just him, and it’s just Gerard, and that’s all there is in the entire world at this moment. There’s nothing else. Just this. That’s alright though, because _this_ , this is perfect.

There is definitely the sound of Frank’s own heart beating in his ear drums like a drum solo. It’s kind of the only thing he can hear in the world. In the back of his head, he’s aware that he should be hearing some background noise of some sort, but it’s just not there.

The only thing that actually does rip Frank back to earth is the low grumble in Gerard’s throat that seems to come from nowhere and shatters his illusion of silence. Frank wants to hear that sound again, most definitely.

Before he can get Gerard to make the sound again though, it’s over, and Frank feels like the world is stopping because he never wants to do anything but that. He has never had a kiss like either of those. Nothing at all compares to that.

“Did that jog your memory any?” Gerard asks.

“Of what?” Frank says, feeling a little bit numb.

“I think I just made you forget what we were talking about altogether,” Gerard smirks.

“Yeah, maybe did you. I mean, you did. I mean, I don’t know what I mean.”

“You are fucking adorable,” Gerard says, before he just starts kissing Frank again, because he’s not exactly protesting or anything.

“Get a room,” someone says and Gerard looks around with pure annoyance at Mikey. Frank wants to kill him, but he also wants to crawl under a rock.

“Fuck off,” Gerard says, before he looks back at Frank who’s turning the color of a strawberry.

“I live here too,” Mikey says, “and seriously, get a room.”

“Say that one more time and I might just do that to make you uncomfortable, Mikes,” Gerard says.

“Uh,” Frank says, because he’s pretty sure he’s supposed to have some say in things like that.

“Don’t worry, he’s all talk,” Mikey says, looking at Frank like he really doesn’t give a shit about him.

“Who’s all talk?” someone else asks, and Frank is just tired of people interrupting the fact that he finally got to kiss someone. Well, he’s kissed before, but that was mostly because he felt like he should be going around kissing more people than he did. It’s not like it’s necessarily hard for him to find people willing to kiss him and what not, but god, Gerard is probably the first person he’s actually wanted to kiss because he wanted to kiss _him_. 

Frank looks around to see it’s the guy with the forehead. He doesn’t know anything about that guy at all other than that his forehead is large, and he’s also fairly sure the guy is in the year below him.

“Seriously? Can a guy not make out with a hot boy anymore without being interrupted?”

“Who’s making out with who?” Brendon asks, because he’s somewhat clueless most of the time things happen.

“Me!” Gerard says.

“Who’d wanna kiss Gerard?”

“That short kid,” Mikey points at Frank.

Brendon evaluates Frank like everyone seems to be doing lately, and Frank just has to hope he doesn’t look too flustered. He’s flustered from kissing Gerard, and the fact that he’s not good around new people in general.

“You can do better than Gerard,” Brendon says.

“Hey!” Gerard says, “He’s absolutely right Frank, you could find a million people more attractive than me who’d be more suitable for you, but I’m still pretty fantastic to look at.”

“Not really,” Mikey says. “Where are all the grape juice boxes?”

“I had the same dilemma!” Gerard says emphatically.

“Oh no,” Brendon says in the most monotonous voice he can muster, “the party, nay, the _world_ has been ruined by the lack of grape juice boxes. Alert the president. This cannot happen under his watch.”

“Oh how you mock me so,” Gerard says, putting his hand to his forehead and sighing.

Gerard grabs Frank’s hand and then starts pulling him out of the kitchen, “come on, Frank. We’re going to go find a closet.”

“What?” Frank asks, but he doesn’t have time to argue before he’s being tugged away.

“Gerard!” he mumbles.

“Don’t worry, I just want to annoy them.”

“Okay?” Frank asks. And then, he’s literally in a closet. Really, Frank thought his closet lurking days were behind him.

“We are actually in a closet,” Frank states.

“We are in a closet,” Gerard says. “Betcha thought those days were behind you.”

“I was literally just thinking that,” Frank says.

“You know what we need to do right now?” Gerard asks, and he winks at Frank suggestively. Frank is just trying to figure out if this is actually happening. Two days ago he had never said one word to Gerard Way in his entire life. Now he’s in a closet in his house. The world is a strange place.

“I don’t know, what do we need to do now?”

“We need to make ‘em sweat,” Gerard says.

“Oh god, what are you proposing?”

“Have you seen the movie Easy A?”

“Gerard, we are not going to simulate sex in a closet.”

“Well but my room is upstairs,” Gerard says, “We can’t exactly fool them into thinking we’re doing it when they’re not even there to eavesdrop on us.”

“You are such a fucking dork,” Frank laughs.

“Yeah well, not all of this has to be fake,” Gerard says, putting his hand on Frank’s side.

“Oh okay,” Frank says. His feet agitate nervously underneath him, almost making him trip, and he has to stop himself from toppling over by grabbing onto the sides of Gerard’s arms.

“I want to kiss you,” Gerard says.

“Okay?”

“But I also want to talk to you,” Gerard says.

“Okay.”

“And now I’m conflicted.”

“That’s a shame,” Frank says.

“We have a whole summer until next year, Frank,” Gerard says, “and that is a long time to get to know someone.”

“You want to get to know me?”

“Frank, I’m standing in a closet with you, I’m fairly sure there’s a power cord wrapped around my foot, and it smells like Lysol, but I’m also fairly sure that you are the most interesting person who’s ever agreed to kiss me.”

“You are a dangerous flirt,” Frank says.

“I told you, I don’t flirt. Flirting is too subtle. Subtlety is for people who don’t have things to do.”

“But you said yourself that you don’t have things to do,” Frank points out.

“I have a few things to do today that I didn’t need to do yesterday,” Gerard says, biting his lip as he looks down at Frank.

“Wh-what things?”

“This,” Gerard says, which is his way of saying that he’s going to kiss Frank now. Frank doesn’t make any move to stop it, because he is not an idiot. He would have to be to reject someone he likes this much.

It always seems to be Gerard that stops the kiss, Frank notes, because he pulls away maybe a few seconds later and rests his forehead against Frank’s, which, okay, is also pretty great.

“What is your favorite color?” Gerard asks.

“What?”

“You say that a lot,” Gerard says, “what’s your favorite color?”

“I don’t think I have one. I, uh, like red?”

“I like black.”

“Black is the absence of color if you want to get technical,” Frank tells him.

“Alright, smartass,” Gerard says, before leaning down again.

Frank is drowning in the smell of both Gerard and the Lysol that is definitely in this closet. Also it’s really dark in here and he can’t really see anything. He can make Gerard’s frame out from the light bleeding under the door, but he’s not much clearer than that. He smells like Gerard though, a smell Frank is pretty sure he’s already familiarized himself with. 

Also, the guy is really warm. Like, he’s _really_ warm. He’s probably the best person to cuddle on the planet. He’s his own space heater. It’s really nice.

“What’s your favorite book?”

“Why are you asking me so many questions?” Frank questions back.

“Because I need to know more about you if I’m going to invest time with you,” Gerard says, plainly.

“You’re going to invest time with me?”

“As much as you’ll allow me to.”

“Maybe you’re not a flirt, but you are cavalier as fuck then,” Frank says.

“I don’t think cavalier can really be compared to fuck. I mean, it’s an adjective. You can’t really describe an adjective.”

“Go away,” Frank rolls his eyes. He didn’t sign up for the grammar policing.

“You sure? Because if I go then I don’t get to look at you and that’s a travesty in and of itself,” Gerard replies.

“You keep calling me attractive, and it’s almost like you actually believe it,” Frank says, shaking his head. “But you don’t look like you’ve got bad vision, so either you’re just lying or you compliment people too freely.”

Gerard makes a face, Frank can see it even in the dark, “Oh, I don’t like that. Don’t say that.”

“It’s my face. I can say whatever I want about it.”

“But you’re wrong. No offense, but it’s just stupid to call yourself unattractive. Like, that’s like if you were to say that the sun isn’t bright. You’re wrong, duh, anyone could see that,” Gerard says.

“No one likes the way they look. Not really.”

Gerard shrugs, “Well, see it’s all about pretending you do and then it’s a million times easier to believe it yourself. Fake it till you make it, Mr. Lero.”

“My favorite book is Catcher in the Rye,” Frank answers the question that Gerard asked a minute ago. Gerard nods, seeming to accept the change in the topic.

“Favorite Disney movie?” Gerard asks.

“You have an endless supply of things to ask, don’t you? I guess, does The Nightmare Before Christmas count as a Disney movie?”

“I guess it does,” Gerard says.

“I get to ask you questions too, don’t I?” Frank asks, and Gerard nods. “Okay, well then what inclined you to buy me coffee yesterday?”

“I liked your face and I was curious to find out if your personality was as nice as your face. I can now say that, unfortunately it is not. Your personality is nicer. And that’s saying something,” Gerard says.

“Well you never noticed me before yesterday,” Frank says, “not once. So why now all of a sudden?”

Gerard wrinkles his nose, “Honestly? I’m about as clueless as people come. I’m just not very observant. Mikey once got a haircut and it took me a month and a half to figure it out.”

“So you’re pleading oblivious?” Frank summarizes.

“I am fucking hopeless. If I were to be put on trial for witnessing a murder, I wouldn’t even be able to tell you what day of the week the murder took place. Not even after the judge just _told_ me when it happened.”

“Remind me not to get murdered in front of you,” Frank says.

“If that’s your only problem with being murdered in front of me than I think you have a few more problems than your lack of a competent witness.”

“You should kiss me again.”

“I should do that, you’re right,” Gerard says before he closes the space between the two of them. With Gerard, it seems like every kiss is different, but they all seem to share one detail. Every single one is amazing.

Gerard bites at Frank’s lip, tugging on it for a moment before letting go, and pulling Frank closer by the back of the head. It’s like Frank is just clay in the palm of Gerard’s hand.

Gerard asks, quietly, barely even pulling apart from Frank, “What is your opinion of diet soda?”

“I’m against it.”

“I feel that,” Gerard nods.

“How do you feel about the Louisiana purchase?”

“I don’t even know what the words coming out of your mouth mean right now,” Gerard admits.

“I feel that,” Frank nods.

“What is your take on Ben Affleck as Batman?”

“I’m hopeful but uncertain,” Frank replies, “How would you feel if I were to kiss you?”

“I’m for it.”

“I feel that,” Frank says, before he’s pulling Gerard down by the back of his neck. He can’t even help his hands stringing themselves through Gerard’s hair.

Frank can hear the rumble of voices coming from the other side of the door, but he’s not focusing on it. He’s just aware that that is something that is happening, but it feels like it’s in a different universe from the one he’s in.

“Gerald!” someone knocks on the door and Gerard huffs furiously at the name.

“You call me that again and I’ll cut your tongue out of your mouth,” Gerard yells at the door.

“Gerard just threatened to turn me into an Avox,” someone says to someone else on the other side of the door.

“Tell him that you’ll just push him into a well.”

“Alright,” they say, “Gerard, I will push you into a well if you attempt to cut my tongue out.”

“But what if we’re not near a well?”

“Then I’ll run away from you until I come to a well.”

“This isn’t Lassie, were the hell are you even going to find a well?” Gerard calls back.

“Brendon, where do I find the nearest well?” the person asks. Frank assumes it’s Mikey, though he doesn’t remember people by voices very well.

“I think, uh, I believe there’s a well in the park across town,” Brendon says.

“You sure?”

“Not at all,” Brendon replies.

“Well how am I supposed to throw him in a well if we’re not even certain that there is, in fact, a well to throw Gerard into?” Mikey asks.

“Are they always like that?” Frank asks Gerard.

“Yes.”

“We can hear you!” Mikey says. “Gerald Way, you and your boyfriend have been in a closet for twenty minutes. Now either come out of the closet, oh I never thought I’d say that to Gerard, or put a sock on the door for fucks sake.”

“They don’t actually think-”

“Nah,” Gerard says. “Mikey doesn’t believe I’m capable of courting anyone.”

“Did you just say courting?” Mikey yells. “What year do you live in?”

“I think his head is up in space,” Brendon comments.

“You wanna know what’ll really bother them?” Frank whispers to Gerard.

Gerard furrows his eyebrows to look down at Frank and then asks him what he’s talking about, just as quietly so that the boys on the other side of the door can’t hear.

“Take my lead, okay?” Frank says, and grabs Gerard’s hand. Gerard nods, looking interested and giddy at the same time.

“Whatever you want, Frank.”

“That’s Mr. Lero to you,” Frank says, before grabbing the door knob and throwing it open, very nearly whacking Mikey in the face.

“You almost-” Mikey starts, but stops immediately when he sees the short kid, whose name he does not recall, pulling Gerard away from them in the direction of the stairs. He’s surprisingly quick considering he’s practically dragging Gerard behind him.

Frank pulls Gerard up the stairs to the part of the house that isn’t crowded at all, with only two people randomly standing in the hallway. How many people do the Way’s know?

“Left,” Gerard says before Frank even has to ask, and then he’s pulling Gerard into his room. The door closes behind him quickly as Frank lets go of Gerard’s hand, as soon as they’re standing in the middle of his room.

“You’re a little devil,” Gerard says, giggling at Frank who’s trying to catch his breath from running a little too quickly.

“Not done yet, gimme a sock,” Frank says.

Gerard raises an eyebrow, “you are wearing two socks, Frank.”

“Your room is a mess,” Frank says looking around. He picks a sock up off the floor, opens the door a crack, wraps it around the door knob, and then winks at the people standing outside in the hall who turn to look at him.

Frank turns back to look at Gerard, who he only now notices is a little closer than he had been just a second ago.

“We could’ve done this first,” Gerard says.

“I don’t know, that closet was pretty scenic.”

“Not particularly,” Gerard says, “it was too dark to see the real view.”

“You’ve got to stop that,” Frank shakes his head, but smiles despite himself.

“I don’t want to. C’mere,” Gerard says, before he’s stepping toward Frank, which seems to go against what he just said, but logic does not exist when you’re making-out with someone. That’s just a thing that flies out the window when a tongue enters your mouth.

Gerard is pressing him into the door with every tiny step he takes until Frank is practically pinned to the plywood. It feels somewhat like a trap if not for the fact that Frank is the one who dragged Gerard up here. 

Gerard is all hands and all mouth right now. His hands don’t seem to stay where they are for more than a few seconds. First they’re running over the sides of Frank’s arms, then on his neck, his hips, his waist, and then they finally settle on tangling into his hair. Frank becomes way too into the feeling of Gerard’s hands lightly tugging on his hair and he has to literally remind himself that he can’t just feel that way right now. That would make things awkward.

Then Frank’s hearing that growling noise in Gerard’s throat again though, and he forgets to care. That sound is the only thing in the world he cares about, and so the fuck what if this is turning Frank on! Gerard’s not exactly an innocent party.

The kiss is frantic and messy, somewhat slobbery, and if Frank weren’t lost in the moment, he’d say it was kind of gross, but he _is_ lost in the moment. He doesn’t process anything.

Gerard’s hands are back to scrambling all over Frank’s body again. They’re on his shoulders, and then the back of his neck, to his chest, then, in a new turn of events, Frank’s back pockets.

Frank’s eyes open in surprise, but he forgets what he was even reacting to when he remembers how good a kisser Gerard is.

“Ge-Gerard!” Frank exclaims when he can breathe.

“It’s Gerald actually,” Gerard says, and then starts nipping at Frank’s neck. Frank can’t think or move, because he’s pressed to the door. If he really wanted to he could push Gerard away, but he doesn’t really want to, so he doesn’t.

“I-I just put that sock there as a joke,” Frank says.

“Do you want it to be a joke, because it doesn’t have to be?”

Frank forgets how to breathe for a second, and then all he can do is let out an airy laugh that sounds way too high-pitched. He doesn’t know how to respond to something like that. All words are lost to him. 

“You know that wasn’t an order or anything,” Gerard says.

“No,” Frank says, “but what if it isn’t a joke?” 

“What if?” Gerard asks, “I’m okay with it either way.”

“Surely you have a preference.”

Gerard laughs, “of course I have a preference. It’s a joke if you say it is though.”

Frank smiles, and says something he never thought he would actually say, “Joking is too subtle. Subtlety is for people who don’t have things to do.”

“And do you have things to do?” Gerard asks.

“I do have something to do, but he’s not a thing.”

“Oh isn’t he?” Gerard asks.

Frank doesn’t respond, he just connects his lips to Gerard’s. He’s unbelievably out of his element. He’s known Gerard for a day and a half, and he is not the sort to do things like this, but right now he can’t help it. His brain is telling him one thing, but he’s got so many muscles in his body protesting to what he knows he should do. 

Really, he barely knows Gerard. Frank isn’t the kind of guy who just hooks up with people, that’s not who he is, but there’s just this voice in his head telling him to do it and he wants to fucking listen to it, because for god’s sake, Frank wants this. Like, he _wants_ this. Not in the, ‘sure I’ll take the large soda if it’s only twenty cents more’ kind of way, Frank really wants this. He doesn’t know why, and maybe his hormones are just on a tailspin, but there’s no way he’s going to turn down the offer when Gerard’s laying it out so freely.

“God,” Gerard mumbles, when Frank puts both of his hands into the black locks of his hair. He hadn’t expected Frank’s actions, but the guy is definitely into it.

Frank doesn’t respond, he just tries not to let his heart beat so fast that it burns a whole in his chest. It’s not like Frank’s never done this before. He’s not exactly new to it, but he isn’t really an expert either. He doesn’t know how to be enticing, he’s just sort of winging it.

Frank has to open one of his eyes, which is uncomfortable and weird, but he doesn’t know which direction to push Gerard in. Gerard’s eyes are closed, and from this light, Frank can see how soft his face is. He’s really pretty glorious up close, but this is closer than Frank had ever anticipated.

Frank gets an eye on his target and then scours the floor below him, and he’s not even surprised to see the mess of Gerard’s room. Gerard must have been the victim of a hurricane sometime recently, because there’s shit everywhere. That won’t be easy to dodge.

“You live in a hoarders dream palace,” Frank mumbles.

“Sorry,” Gerard says.

“I never thought I’d have to go through the fucking wipeout course just to get to the other side of a room,” Frank says.

“Oh, but you’re tiny. You can’t weigh that much. I could do this bridal style.”

“Don’t you fucking dare,” Frank says, and he barely makes it out before Gerard is literally picking him up. Frank doesn’t imagine Gerard is all that strong, but Frank isn’t all that heavy either, he’s very small. He was the kid that everyone tried to pick up in elementary school to feel better about themselves. He was also the kid that got sent to the principal’s office more than on one occasion for punching people in the face who tried to pick him up.

None of those people ever picked him up like Gerard though. He really is holding Frank like they’re on their fucking honeymoon, and Frank is conflicted between the two opposing thoughts of ‘put me the fuck down you ink-haired bat-shit’ and ‘why is this turning me on a little bit?’

“Gerard!” Frank says, but before he has a chance to smack the guy across the face, Gerard’s plopping him onto the mattress. They fall down onto the bed together, to a point where Frank literally lands on top of Gerard, and he’s trying to figure out how that worked out. Frank decides that he must’ve been a cat in another life because he landed right-side up.

“I will murder you for that someday,” Frank says, looking down at Gerard. His arms are on either side of Gerard’s head, who’s looking up at Frank, a little frazzled himself.

“Are you going to throw me in a well?” Gerard asks.

“Where is the nearest well, might I ask?” Frank laughs.

“Ask Brendon, he seemed to know.”

“Maybe later,” Frank leans down and places his mouth atop Gerard’s. Frank is never going to get used to how soft the guys lips are.

“Oh wait!” Gerard says.

“What?” Frank asks, nervous that Gerard’s about to push him away. That’d suck.

“I never got to ask you what your favorite pizza topping is,” Gerard says.

“What? Seriously? You interrupted the part where I put my tongue in your mouth to ask me what I like on pizza?” Frank asks.

“I can’t exactly get into a guy’s pants without knowing what his favorite pizza topping is,” Gerard says.

“You are annoying,” Frank says, “but the answer is mushrooms.”

“Okay then. Proceed.”

“You’re going to be the death of me,” Frank shakes his head, and then looks down at Gerard who is whimsically splaying himself across the bed like he’s trying to do a snow angel. “You look so stupid.”

“But I’m still hot.”

“What makes you think you were hot to begin with?” Frank asks.

Gerard pouts and bats his eyelashes at Frank, making him laugh even harder at what a fucking dork Gerard is.

“Alright fine, you were hot before,” Frank concedes, and Gerard replaces his pout with a toothy smile so that he looks like an anime character.

Frank just shakes his head and kisses Gerard some more. Usually his brain would be screaming at him that this is all happening too quickly, but this isn’t usual in the slightest. It’s the last day of school, or it will be for the next few hours, and Gerard is talking to him, and he’s hot and he’s basically throwing himself at Frank. Everything is aligning into place to tell him to go for it.

Frank feels Gerard’s fingers scrabbling at his back, but he doesn’t process what he’s trying to do, until he feels the seam of his shirt being played with. Frank forgets how to move for a second because he’s just lost in the fact that there’s a hot guy trying to take his shirt off. When Frank figures out what’s going on, he lifts himself off of Gerard’s body enough for the shirt to be pulled over his head.

“Shirtless is a good look for you,” Gerard says, nodding matter-of-factly, “you should consider taking this up as a new fashion style.”

“Walk around topless?”

“Oh you’re not going to be topless,” Gerard says. Frank snorts unattractively at that, and puts his head on Gerard’s chest. He really is warm. It’s very pleasant.

“I can’t even believe you,” Frank says. He starts tugging at the bottom of Gerard’s shirt, who lifts his arms up enough for Frank to get it. Frank expected Gerard to be pale, but seeing him like this, he’s sure that this boy could get lost in the snow.

“You are staring at me,” Gerard says.

“You are very pale.”

“You are very attractive,” Gerard says.

“You are to,” Frank answers.

“I know. Glad we’ve settled that,” Gerard says, and pulls Frank back to kissing him.

Frank keeps remembering how he’s not at all good at this. This is something he’s not accustomed to doing, nor does he have any tricks up his sleeve. He has very little knowledge of what he’s doing. Frank is uncertain of just about everything, but one thing he’s fairly sure of is that Gerard is on basically the same playing field as he is. Not necessarily alien to sex, but not all that familiar either.

Now, Frank isn’t very good at timing things, and apparently, neither is Gerard. Gerard just gets right down to business. Frank will contest that, while Gerard may not be one for subtlety, sometimes, it is a necessity. Like maybe, you know, if you’re making out with a dude, you don’t just shove your hand down his pants. If you’re Gerard though, than apparently that is precisely what you do.

“Oh,” Frank squeaks.

“I’m not good at this,” Gerard says, looking at Frank with a new expression that he hasn’t seen before. He looks uncertain of himself, which is not the kind of face Frank’s come to expect from Gerard.

“You think I’m any better?”

“Well you’re not completely brainless,” Gerard says.

“Neither are you,” Frank says. He’s not sure what just happened, but he’s pretty sure they’ve just established that neither one of them is a virgin. That might be what happened or maybe Frank is reading too much into it.

“Fair enough.”

“Just, I don’t know, let me get your pants off.”

“Who’s cavalier now?” Gerard says, holding back a laugh.

“Shut up,” Frank says, and he kisses Gerard to achieve that goal. Frank’s not having a quick job of unzipping the damn pants, because he’s literally on top of Gerard and he has no room to pull the fucking garment off. This is not supposed to be that difficult.

“You are fucking lucky that you’re as attractive as you are uncoordinated,” Gerard says, and then, as if he’s trying to prove a point, he makes very quick work of Frank’s own pants, leaving Frank to feel like an idiot.

“Well aren’t you talented?” Frank says.

“Oh yeah, I’m going to enter America’s Got Talent and take off your pants,” Gerard replies.

“What makes you think I’ll provide the legs you need?”

“Call me an optimist,” Gerard says, and then pushes Frank’s shoulder. At first, Frank thinks he’s trying to push him away, but then he realizes that Gerard’s just trying to climb on top of him. Unfortunately, Frank is small, and Gerard is stronger than him, so he goes without much of a fight. 

Gerard, sometime between throwing Frank’s back to the bed, and then climbing on top of him, managed to find the time to take his pants off. Frank doesn’t say a word, he just puts his hands on Gerard’s shoulders as his head dips down to Frank’s neck again.

Gerard’s mouth at the spot under his collarbone is phenomenal, and Frank forgets how to retain himself from moaning lightly. Gerard looks up at him at the noise and gives Frank a cheeky grin before he goes back to kissing Frank’s neck.

There’s not much he can do about the situation at hand right now. Gerard’s completely in tuned to the state of affairs. Gerard’s aware of everything that Frank is aware of. He’s aware of the tent in Frank’s boxers, as is Frank to the matching one in Gerard’s. He’s aware of the way that Frank’s skin has gone all prickly with goose bumps. Frank’s aware of the way that Gerard has a hand in Frank’s hair and he’s using that hand as leverage to pull Frank to a kiss. There’s nothing that they don’t know right now.

There’s nothing in Frank’s head because the blood flow decided that its purposes were better served elsewhere. If Frank was thinking though, he’d be so terrified of the fact that he is literally in the bedroom of a guy he doesn’t even really know that well, in the middle of a party with like thirty people downstairs. The guy who’s got a knee between his legs has a _brother_ who is only a thin floor away from them. This is so not something Frank just does. He doesn’t do this, and yet here he is.

“Ah!” Frank says involuntarily, because it didn’t compute that the knee between his legs wasn’t there a moment ago. That’s new. That’s nice. It’s new though, it’s a new feeling.

“You are so fucking hot,” Gerard says, shaking his head, as if in disbelief.

“Not so b-bad yourself,” Frank says. Gerard laughs airily, sounding high and lightheaded.

“Mm good,” Gerard says.

“Good?”

“Yeah,” Gerard says, looking down at Frank with a delicate smile.

Gerard thumbs at the elastic of the boxers around Frank’s waist, and all he can do is just watch Gerard looking down at him. Gerard looks oddly fascinated, which is weird because there’s nothing all that exciting about Frank without a shirt. There’s nothing to really dwell on.

“May I?” Gerard asks, and Frank doesn’t need Gerard to supply any more detail as to what his question is pertaining to.

“You first,” Frank says.

“Eager to get me naked, are you?” Gerard asks.

“Just, I’m nervous.”

“We can stop.”

Frank shakes his head, “being nervous doesn’t mean I want to stop.”

“So that’s a no on the stopping?” Gerard asks.

“That’s a no on the stopping, and a yes on the ‘please go on’,” Frank says.

“You _are_ eager to get me naked,” Gerard says, shaking his head and laughing.

It’s not like it’s very hard for Frank to get Gerard naked. All he did was ask, and Gerard’s now pulling off his last item of clothing. So he’s pictured Gerard naked maybe a few times, it depends on how you define ‘a few.’ The fact is that, Gerard is a good looking dude, and it’s so much more fun to see the real thing then having to picture Gerard in his head. 

See, Gerard’s not the tallest guy in the world, but he has big feet.

“Your turn,” Gerard says, and he tugs teasingly at the top of Frank’s underwear, until he lifts his hips to help Gerard out.

Frank closes his eyes as if he’s expecting to be hit by a plane and he’s preparing for impact. That’s not what happens though, the only thing that happens is that the room suddenly becomes a million times quieter than it had been when they were making out. It’s a whole new atmosphere, it doesn’t even feel like the same room. 

Frank can hear a stereo playing some shitty pop song downstairs, but it’s more white noise than anything else. Mostly what Frank knows is silence. He opens his eyes sheepishly to look at Gerard, who’s staring right back into his eyes.

“Hot naked boy in my bed,” Gerard states, “since when was Christmas in June?”

Frank’s lost for words, because every few minutes he has to let it sink in again that this is real life. Every five minutes it seems, just after he’s come to terms with the reality of the situation, he’s just reminded ever more. This is a real life scenario in which he’s literally on Gerard’s bed without clothes on. This was always a wet dream at two in the morning in his own bed, this was never a real thing that could happen.

Gerard gets in real close to Frank and lays himself sideways on the bed next to him, almost like a Tetris piece.

“Can I touch you, Frankie?” Gerard says. Frank doesn’t recall Gerard ever calling him that before. His mother is the only one who calls him Frankie nowadays. Most people call him ‘hey you, short kid’ or ‘yeah, you’ or, if he’s really lucky ‘Fred.’

“Kinda defeats the point if you don’t,” Frank says, his voice coming out hoarse

“You’re right, but I’d rather ask,” Gerard says, “I’m like a vampire. I have to be invited.”

“I cannot even believe you’re talking about vampires while we’re fucking naked in your fucking bed,” Frank says, exasperatedly.

“So was that a yes or a no?”

“Fucking yes, goddammit!”

“Cool,” Gerard says, and he takes his hand, allowing it to trace faintly along Frank’s stomach. The subtlety is back in place though, as Gerard doesn’t do what Frank wants him to. Namely, Gerard just places his hand on Frank’s thigh rather than start jacking him off, which would be nice right now as his hard-on is beginning to become painful.

Gerard’s mouth envelopes Frank’s earlobe, which is not a place Frank would have expected to force a mewling sound from his throat, but Gerard’s finding all those little pressure points without much hardship.

“Just, god, come on,” Frank asks, sounding more desperate than he’d intended.

“Don’t be hasty,” Gerard says quietly into his ear, and maybe it’s the proximity of how close Gerard is to him, or maybe it’s the way his voice gets all low when he says it, but Frank literally whimpers at the sound. 

Frank looks at Gerard, and he is so beautiful, that it makes Frank’s brains spin a little. When he turns his head, Gerard makes a small little disappointed huff, because Frank’s ear is no longer there.

“C’mon, Frankie, live a little,” Gerard says. Frank has no idea what that means, but there’s Gerard’s cock right there, as hard, and alright maybe a little bit bigger than Frank’s, but he’s not one to be discouraged by size, okay?

“Yeah?” Frank asks.

“Yeah,” Gerard says, and neither of them are all that sure what they’re agreeing to, or if they’re agreeing at all. Gerard’s just waiting for Frank to do something soon, and if he doesn’t than Gerard’s going to have no choice but to take control over the situation. That wouldn’t be the end of the world or anything. Gerard would like that probably.

So Frank just does what he feels is right, and what he feels is right is to jack that motherfucker off like there’s no fucking tomorrow. 

As soon as Frank’s hand grabs him, a moan, that’s way too loud when you consider how many people are downstairs, is ripped from Gerard. There’s no stopping that sound, and Gerard doesn’t know where it even came from, but it makes him throw his head back the slightest bit.

“Frank, fuck!” Gerard exclaims, and that’s when he takes Frank’s dick into his palm. Frank’s moan isn’t as loud as his, but it’s still there.

With Gerard’s extra hand, he uses it to rake the hair out of Frank’s face, because he really needs to see Frank’s face right now. This is the best image he’s ever going to get in his entire life. Just the look of euphoria on Frank’s soft face. Gerard had not noticed it earlier, but Frank has the most _unbelievable_ mouth. He’s attracted to a _mouth_. That’s a really nice looking mouth though. Frank’s lips are too red, a little swollen from all the kissing, and god it’s wet, like a mouth should be, and all Gerard wants is that mouth anywhere he can fucking get it. For now, he settles for having that mouth against his.

Gerard lifts himself up a little bit, to lean on his elbow, and kisses Frank madly, searching around with his tongue like he’s in dire need of something. Frank just kisses back, and there’s teeth getting in the way, and god, it’s sloppy, and not very coordinated, but it feels so right.

Frank’s senses are all muddled. He’s feeling with his dick and mouth and that’s all that seemed to be plugged into his brain right now. Everything else is just humdrum.

“God,” Gerard squeaks, because Frank’s hand on his erection is not relenting, and Gerard’s trying to match him, but it’s getting him nowhere closer to being able to drown out the pleasure coursing through him.

“Fuck fuck fuck, Frank,” Gerard says, “We gotta... we-”

“You are the best view in the world,” Frank says, mumbling against his jaw, where he’s mouthing and nipping gently at the skin.

“Not going to be able to...” Gerard says, but he interrupts himself with a moan, as Frank runs his thumb over the head of his cock. It’s all too much, but he knows it’s not enough.

“Hang on,” Gerard mumbles, taking his hand off of Frank to try to clear his brain a little, “h-hang on.”

“No-” Frank tries to protest, because he misses the feeling of Gerard gripping him, and the way that his hand gave him some relief from the strain.

“Just, hold on a sec,” Gerard says, and he clambers over to the side of the bed, leaving Frank feeling somewhat lonely. Gerard is like a radiator though, he could keep you warm in the middle of a blizzard.

Gerard comes back with a condom and lube, but he doesn’t dwell on it before he’s furiously attacking Frank’s mouth again. He’s putting one leg around Frank’s torso so that all Frank knows is the weight of his body, but he’s taking most of the pressure away by holding himself up.

“Just,” Gerard tries to instruct Frank, but Frank’s already beat him to it.

Frank wraps one of his legs around Gerard’s waist, pulling him closer, but also giving Gerard a little more access as well. Gerard fumbles, trying with all his might to keep kissing Frank, but he’s panting slightly because he’d forgotten to breathe.

“Quickly,” Frank says, his words almost getting lost in Gerard’s mouth or jaw or whatever the hell it is Frank’s trying to kiss right now. He knows it’s Gerard’s bottom lip when he bites gently down, and hears Gerard’s already uneven breath hitch in his throat.

Gerard wants to say that he’s going to take his own sweet time, because he doesn’t want to hurt Frank, but that’s too many syllables for right now. The most Gerard can muster is, like, two syllables.

“God, Frank,” is what he ends up saying. 

Everything is feeling more fast paced than it was before. Everything is becoming more frantic, as they both grow more and more anxious to just do it already.

Nevertheless, Gerard isn’t stingy on the lube, nor is he stingy on making sure Frank is well prepped. Frank just keeps looking at him, a mix between agitated, annoyed at how long this is taking, and also something like bliss.

“Gerard,” Frank says, putting his hands on either side of Gerard’s head, and letting the black locks glide through his fingertips. Soft like silk, but somewhat sweaty because of the nature of their situation.

“Good?” Gerard asks after a few minutes, which is too long in his opinion, but it’s better to be safe than sorry. 

“Yes,” Frank says, though it’s not really like he’s going to say no right now. Right now he _needs_ it. If he’d wanted this before, than this is nothing. Frank just feels like an animal, and Gerard is so hot, it’s too important to Frank for this to happen now for him to wait any longer.

Gerard nods, and he grabs the bottle again, pouring more of the liquid onto his fingertips. 

Frank’s eyes close, and he lets his head rest on the bed behind him as he quietly waits, because all he wants is that feeling. The feeling of being unwound from the inside. He just wants that more than anything.

There’s the sound of the condom wrapper being torn open, and then he waits. Gerard puts a hand on Frank’s head, next to his ear, and he takes his own cock in his hand with the other, making sure to keep his eyes trained on Frank.

It’s just that Frank’s so gorgeous underneath him, and he doesn’t want to hurt this guy, he’s somewhat petrified at the very idea. All Gerard can think about is what Frank is going to feel like, but at the same time, he’s worried about what Gerard himself, is going to feel like to Frank.

Time that a moment earlier had been on fast forward, seems to slow it down a little. Noise has stopped completely in both their brains, like all there is to hear is the emptiness of the room with neither of them daring to breathe. 

Frank’s not sure if Gerard is waiting for his say so or not, but just in case he is, Frank nods, still with his eyes closed. They’re not clamped together, more just closed and patient. Gerard never noticed how long Frank’s eyelashes were until now.

When he sees the nod, he decides that waiting is only a suspension of the inevitable, so Gerard pushes in carefully. Frank’s body protests to him at first, his small entrance seeming to dislike Gerard’s intrusion. Gerard just worries his eyebrows together, feeling a coat of sweat begin to form on his forehead. Frank winces in a flash, so quick that Gerard wouldn’t have noticed it had he not been watching for it.

Frank’s eyes are still closed, and his hands clamped into fists as he tries to tell himself that the pain is going to go away in just a little while, to be replaced with the best fucking feeling in the world. That doesn’t ease his brain any, but he shuts it up, and pulls Gerard closer to him by the hair. 

Frank can feel Gerard’s chest against his own now, and he can feel Gerard ever so slowly, continuing to push in. He also feels the rise and fall of Gerard’s chest as he breathes. Frank doesn’t know how much dick the guy has left, but it feels like he’s being torn apart. Frank realizes that Gerard’s size is more noticeable now than it had been a few minutes ago.

“I’m sorry,” Gerard says, biting back a moan, because that would be out of place. Frank’s in pain, it would be rude for him to groan with the carnal perfection of how good but so _so_ sinful Frank feels around him. There’s nothing at all like it, and he has to stop himself from just shoving into Frank as far as he’ll go.

“S’okay,” Frank says, and he opens his eyes at last to look up at Gerard. Frank hadn’t anticipated that seeing his face would take away some of the pain but it sure as hell does. Seeing Gerard, that beautiful face of his, torn up in guilty desire, is like a daydream. 

Gerard decides that it’d hurt Frank to go all the way in right now, so instead he pulls back out just slightly until pressing himself a little further in. It’s not exactly a pleasant experience, Frank feels himself being stretched too harshly from Gerard, but he just breathes in and pushes the pain away to calm him down.

It’s very slow at first. Gerard is mostly just watching to make sure Frank relaxes a little as he adjusts, and Frank’s wishing to just skip forward a few seconds in time to get past the uncomfortable bit at the beginning so that he can get to the fun part after it.

Gerard finds just the right spot after a minute with no warning at all. For Frank, it comes with a half-scream, but complete wave of ‘holy shit,’ which is a term that’s been repurposed to mean hell yeah to whatever Gerard just hit.

Frank’s not new to the feeling of hitting his g-spot, he’s found it enough times on his own, but those times were nothing compared to the way it feels when it’s _Gerard_. There’s just nothing like having a real person there. That was all-too real, and it is up there for one of the top ten best seconds of his life.

“There,” Frank says, like he even needs to tell Gerard. Gerard almost remembers to worry that they’re not alone in the house, but he forgets that fleeting thought when he sees Frank’s face. That fucking mouth of his. That perfect cock sucking mouth. That mouth like a dream, probably handcrafted by a deity specifically for its power to turn a person on. _That_ is the most amazing expression Gerard could imagine from Frank. His eyes are fluttering shut, but they’re having trouble staying that way, and his mouth is so wide and all Gerard wants is to take a picture and save it forever.

A second after Frank’s reaction, or maybe it’s a century, time is becoming nonsensical again, Gerard slams back into that spot, and Frank’s reaction is almost the same. He’s melting into the mattress, his body forgetting to resist Gerard anymore as he just waits and wishes for Gerard inside of him.

At that, it’s all a matter of aim now. Gerard’s gotten to a place where Frank’s pain has all been replaced with the pleasure. His cheeks are flushing, and his back is arching up ever-so-slightly with every dead-on hit to his prostate. 

Gerard’s head collapses against Frank’s forehead, so that they’re eyes are only inches apart, and their noses locked together. Gerard’s brainwaves are too nonsensical to attempt kissing Frank, and Frank’s not making the move either. He’s just taking, and moaning, and clawing at Gerard’s back. There’s just no way to describe it really.

“God, Frank,” Gerard mutters, getting hypnotized by the sweaty sound their bodies make when they come together so completely. It’s gurgling moans, sharp inhales, some creaks of the old bed, and that unmistakable slap between the two of them filling the room. It’s the smell of sweat, and spit. It’s the feeling of every point in space where their bodies meet, from their foreheads, all the way down to Frank’s thighs wrapped around Gerard’s hips. It’s everything, but at the same time only the one thing, and that’s all it is.

“Fuck,” Frank rasps, looking up at Gerard with lust filled eyes and heavy eyelids. He’s not going to last much longer. There’s no more perseverance left in him. Strange how just lying there and letting Gerard do all the work is tiring him out, but it is.

No, Frank knows when it’s about to happen, feels the twisting in his stomach like someone is wringing out his insides. There’s no surprise to the feeling building up that he’s about to release.

What Frank doesn’t expect is for it to be as forceful as it is. One second he’s gasping and keening, and the next, he just feels his body go limp. He feels it like a wave crashing against a cliff face. All of a sudden, all Frank knows is his own orgasm. It’s unlike any before, and he knows it’s the best one he’s ever had before it even happens. He just feels it, and he feels himself clenching around Gerard’s cock, and if the sound of pure ecstasy he gets in response is anything to go by, that’s what sends Gerard into climax as well. 

Frank knows that he’s just gotten cum on his own stomach and Gerard, and if he had the will to care he’d find that disgusting but he does not have that will right now. Right now what he has is the shuddering and gasping of everything falling back into place in the world around him. He’s not sure where he just went, but he was not on planet earth for a few seconds. Now he’s in Gerard’s room though, and he can’t stop himself still from trembling with the aftershock of it all.

Gerard must’ve rolled off of him while he was lost in the feeling, because when he blinks a few times at the room, Gerard’s face is no longer right above his. Instead, it’s a ceiling in a room that his eyes are finding to be too bright. 

Frank sighs contentedly as he looks over at Gerard, who is smiling at the ceiling.

“I am very happy with this turn of events,” Gerard says.

“That’s not at all how I thought I’d spend my last day of school,” Frank says, and he rolls around a little until he finds a comfortable spot, which just so happens to be the spot right next to Gerard. Gerard wraps his arm around Frank to bring him closer and rests his head on top of Frank’s, like holding Frank is all he’s ever wanted to do.

“A very very very happy turn of events.”

“You are such a weirdo,” Frank rolls his eyes. Everything seems a lot more laughable after that, and he’s not sure what chemical he’s high on right now, he doesn’t know what his brain is doing up there, but he likes it.

“Don’t pretend you don’t like me,” Gerard says, and Frank can feel Gerard kiss the top of his head, which just makes everything feel so perfect. This is all he wants right now.

“I didn’t say I didn’t like you,” Frank replies, “I just said you’re a weirdo.”

“Can I ask you to do me a favor?” Gerard asks.

“Oh god, what the hell is about to come out of your mouth?”

Gerard laughs lightly, “no, it’s just that, Mikey isn’t going to believe that anyone would fuck me, so would you mind giving me a hickey?”

“Are you asking me for a hickey, because if my ears are hearing you correctly than the answer I have to give to you is abso-fucking-lutely yes, I’ll give you a hickey.”

“You’re fantastic,” Gerard says, “in more ways than one.”

“You should see me play checkers.”

“Are you fantastic at checkers?”

“Oh I am a wizard at checkers.”

Five minutes later, Frank’s forgotten all about Gerard’s neck. It’s a very nice neck, a neck that he is honored to get to bruise a little bit, but his neck is nothing compared to how good a kisser he is. Frank realizes that he’s become addicted to kissing Gerard.

“I’m really fucking glad you were in that hallway yesterday, Frank,” Gerard says.

“I followed you actually,” Frank says, “I heard you yelling in front of the school, and I was like ‘hey my name is spelled wrong too.’”

“Really?” Gerard asks, “Well than I’m glad you followed me. You are quite the attractive stalker.”

“I’m glad I let you buy me coffee,” Frank confesses.

“Yeah?” Gerard asks and Frank nods. “This summer is going to be a lot more fantastic now that I have you.”

“Definitely,” Frank agrees.

“I have a million more things to learn about you though,” Gerard says.

“Well quiz me whenever you feel like it,” Frank says.

“Kay,” Gerard says, “when you put on a shirt, do you put both arms in and then pull it on, or do you put one arm in, pull it over your head and then the other arm, or do you pull it on and then put both of your arms in, or-”

“How about I just show you how I put a shirt on?”

“No, I’m cozy,” Gerard says, tightening his grip around Frank’s waist so that he can’t get out of the bundle of blankets and they’re interlocking legs.

“You asked me a question!”

“No I didn’t,” Gerard denies, stuffing his face into the back of Frank’s neck. “Don’t leave. Let’s just stay here for a little while.”

“You’re hosting a party downstairs,” Frank reminds him.

“Mikey can handle it. I want you to stay here for just a little longer.”

“I can’t stay here forever.”

“Yes you can,” Gerard says, kissing the back of Frank’s neck.

“Gerard, do you really want me around this summer?”

“That’s a stupid question. Of course I do.”

“Then alright,” Frank says, “Let’s stay here a little while.”

Gerard smiles, and settles back into the bedding, clinging to Frank like he needs to cuddle the kid to breathe. He likes the way Frank feels in his arms though. He’s not that big of a guy, so Gerard’s arms wrap around him pretty well.

“I don’t normally do things like this,” Frank says.

“Me neither,” Gerard says, “I made an exception. To be honest, I didn’t think you’d agree, so I was playing it off as a joke. Like I said though, I am very pleased with this turn of events.”

“Me too,” Frank replies.

The two of them just sort of stay there, lying around for about ten more minutes. Neither of them has the desire to stand up, and they’re boneless if they were to even try. Frank could die here and be happy. He could just die wrapped up in Gerard’s arms, not knowing for sure which of the legs in the tangled mess of limbs is his.

When they do get up, it’s only because they know they’ll have to eventually. Frank’s mom would kill him if he didn’t return home. He would not live to be a senior, as he’d die today.

Also, Frank owes Gerard a display of how he puts a shirt on. Frank grabs his shirt from where he threw it on the floor, and he pulls it over his head, which Gerard seems oddly fascinated by. His attention gets focused on just about anything, and it confuses Frank. It’s kind of fun though.

“You ready to go back downstairs?” Frank asks.

“Yeah, I guess,” Gerard says, “can I hold your hand?”

“You want to hold my hand?”

“I wanna hold your hand,” Gerard nods.

“I think I understand.”

“I’m going to file away the reality that you understand Beatles references for the future,” Gerard says.

“So what happens now then?”

“I guess we go downstairs and let Brendon and Mikey pick on us for a few minutes. It’ll be mostly them calling you my boyfriend or whatever.”

Frank is surprised by the word, so he looks at Gerard and asks, “Wait, am I?”

“Uh, I don’t know, are you?”

“I could be,” Frank shrugs.

“You could be, you’re right. Is that something you’d be interested in?”

“I think so,” Frank says.

“Alright then,” Gerard says. “We’ll go downstairs and they’ll make fun of us because you are my boyfriend.”

“Are they gonna know? Know about, well...” Frank asks, because he’s never been one to have the rumors of promiscuity buzzing around him. He hopes that this isn’t going to be just like Easy A though, oh god. Well in the movie, there was only one gay guy in that room, and it was fake sex. This is real life. There were two in here, and that was _not_ fake.

“I disappeared for an hour, and I’m about to walk down the stairs with a guy who’s prettier than me. Everyone is going to know.”

“Uh, maybe we should go down separately?” Frank suggests.

Gerard gets a crushed expression on his face and asks, “You don’t want to be seen with me?”

“No! I didn’t mean that. It came out like that, but I didn’t mean it like that. I just meant that it’ll be harder to put the pieces together if the pieces aren’t offered at the exact same time.”

Gerard nods, “well do you care if they think we did something?”

Frank frowns, because if people think they did do something than they’d be right. That would be a completely factual inference, but he’s not sure if he wants them to know how right they are. Then again, they’ll have a whole summer to forget about it if they even care.

“No, I guess I don’t care,” Frank says, holding out his hand for Gerard to take.

Gerard stares at his hand for a moment before smiling and grabbing onto it. Frank’s hand conforms perfectly to the ridges of Gerard’s. It’s weird. It’s nice, but it’s weird. It’s like they’re hand holding soul mates. 

“Then we go down together?” Gerard asks.

“Yeah,” Frank says, “ _someone’s_ got to take the credit for that hickey.”

Gerard grins, and before he opens the door, he grabs Franks face in his hand and kisses him one more time for good measure. Frank’s kissed him too many times to count today, he doesn’t even know what were considered kisses and what was considered an exchange of saliva, but he knows that Gerard is an unbelievable kisser. He cannot even put into words what kissing Gerard feels like. It’s just perfect. Absolutely perfect.

“I like you a lot, Mr. Lero.”

“I like you a lot too, Gerald.”

**Author's Note:**

> That wasn't supposed to be so long. Congratulations on making it through that. Comments mean a lot considering how much work I put into this, so please leave a comment, and I will love you forever!


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